wet centerfolds*

an empty tub
conspiracies drained away
soapy inferno
yellow bathrobe croquet
crack the mirror
pace on a soaked bathmat
wash my feet
brush my hair, rub my back

Small stuffed tokens
of falsies or love
Watercolor flowers
stained from above

a gurgling throat
ingenuity steals my gut
faded record sleeve
with my life in its ruts
tear the blanket
let the blinds become useful
pet my arm
at least you can be truthful

Faint dead roses
mean nothing to you
But rusty nails show
that rainy skies turn blue

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